Wrong person 282

Chapter 282 

Her mouth moves under mine like it never left. Like it belongs here. Like I didn’t go feral every night she was gone, imagining the feel of her lips, the weight of her body on mine, the sound of her voice saying my name like it’s a secret and a promise. 

And now she’s here-real, warm, pressed so close I can feel her heartbeat stutter against my chest. 

I don’t pull back. 

I can’t 

She tastes like everything I lost and everything I swore I’d get back. 

But even now, even drowning in her, I ask, because I have to. 

“Tell me to stop,” I murmur into her mouth. My voice is hoarse, dragged through gravel. “If you need space. If it’s too soon. If-” 

She exhales the word against my lips. “Don’t stop.” 

It undoes me. 

My hand tangles in her hair, tipping her head so I can kiss her deeper, harder. Her fingers fist the front of my shirt like she’s trying to anchor herself, but I’m the one unraveling. Every soft gasp from her makes it worse-makes me hungrier, needier, more desperate to feel her, to prove she’s here and mine and 

safe. 

I pull her into my lap. Her knees settle on either side of my hips, her arms winding around my neck, and God, I forget how to breathe. 

“You feel…” I can’t even finish the sentence. My hands roam her waist, up her back, down her thighs, like I can’t touch enough of her fast enough. “I missed 

you, Penny. I missed you so bad I started dreaming in your voice.” 

Her eyes go soft. “Asher-” 

I shake my head. “No, let me say it.” I press my forehead to hers. “I thought I lost you. And the thought of someone else touching you, hurting you-” My 

jaw flexes. “I was ready to burn the whole city down.” 

She brushes her thumb across my cheek like she’s trying to soothe something she knows can’t be soothed. Not entirely. 

“I’m here,” she whispers. 

And I lose it again. 

I push her shirt up-slowly, reverently. Not to rush. Not to claim. Just to see her. 

“Still okay?” I whisper, fingers skimming the edge of her shirt. 

“Yes,” she says, voice low and sure. 

She lifts her arms, and I peel it off. Her bare skin catches the lamplight-smooth, flushed, real. My hands are reverent on her, not out of fear but awe. The 

kind you get when you realize the thing you prayed for every damn night didn’t vanish-it walked right back into your arms. 

Chapter 282 

Her hands are on my shirt next, tugging. I help her, tearing it off in one fluid move. Her fingers glide across my chest, over the old scars, the stories I’ve never let anyone else read. 

She doesn’t flinch. 

She kisses one just under my collarbone. Then another near my ribs. 

And then she whispers, “You came back to me.” 

That’s it. That’s the end of whatever thread I had left holding me together. 

I pull her against me, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, and roll us so she’s beneath me, our legs tangled in the sheets we didn’t even make it under. 

Her body moves under mine like she was built to fit me. Not just physically-though God, that’s part of it- but in the way she responds to every touch. Every breath. Like her skin knows mine. Like her heart beats to the same rhythm. 

I kiss her slowly. Deeply. My hand curls around the back of her neck, tilting her head just the way I like, so I can taste more of her, steal another breath, feel het fall apart inch by inch beneath me. 

She gasps into my mouth and arches, chest brushing against mine, soft and flushed and so damn warm. Her fingers dig into my shoulders and then slide down-across my chest, over the scars, down my ribs-like she’s trying to memorize me. 

I feel every inch of her touch like a brand. 

“Still okay?” I murmur against her jaw, lips grazing the soft skin there, my voice barely holding together. 

“Yes,” she breathes. “Please-don’t stop.” 

My control frays at the edges. 

I drag my mouth down her throat, tasting the rapid pulse fluttering beneath her skin. I kiss her there-softly, reverently-and then lower, across her 

collarbones, her shoulder, the top of her chest. My hands follow, sliding down her waist, tracing the dip of her back, cupping her like she might slip away if I 

let go.